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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961629">On the Edge of Madness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Metaphorical, Pain, Pining, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Spiralling, Swearing, little to no dialogue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:01:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is a puzzle. Everyone finds their pieces along the way somehow. Somewhere. But George? George is missing something. And as life starts to crash down over him. Envelop him in its rough arms, pushing more hurt and anger out of him. Someone pulls him out of the dark. And maybe, just maybe, George will find the rest of his puzzle.</p><p>DISCONTINUED</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>George Andrew/Will Lenney, Lewis Buchan/Alex Elmslie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. An Ocean of Hurt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world is an ocean and the people in it are just tiny fish. Caught in the storm of everything. George likes being small. Likes being insignificant. Because then when something happens, it doesn't matter. Because when something goes wrong, it doesn't matter. Because if you look at the sky, there are millions of stars. And if you're lucky you'll see the planets. The Earth is just another ball of rock, spinning endlessly in space. If there are other civilizations, they won't care about some small, twenty-two year old mess. They'll just think of George as another human. They won't care about the mistakes he's made or all the wrong decisions he agonizes about everyday.</p>
<p>Sometimes George feels like an outsider in his own life. Like his actions and motions are controlled by an invisible force. Something alien-like. Sometimes he feels as if he's not all there. Like a part of him is missing. All his friends seem so <em>whole</em>. So completed. While he feels like a puzzle with all the middle pieces gone. And as he stares at his friends, with smiles on their faces. Just so <em>happy. </em>George almost feels like his whole life is a lie. That his whole life, he never found those middle pieces. </p>
<p>Alex has completed his puzzle. He nudges himself up against Lewis's arm, smile wide and his eyes shining. He's happier than George has ever seen and love is a good look for him. It brings out everything that Alex has ever been insecure about and shines a whole different light on it. His loud, hyena bark of a laugh and his smile that he spent so long trying to hide. They make him even more bright as he runs a hand up his boyfriend's arm. George swallows and looks away. </p>
<p>
  <span>If the world is an ocean, then this club is a raindrop. Filled with people but still so insignificant. The music is uncomfortably loud, piercing needles into George's brain and filling up his ears with sound. It's not good music either. It's the kind that is really just noise with a few catchy lines thrown into the mix. But, nonetheless, all of his friends are dancing. Shaking their bodies and laughing at how bad each other look. And maybe before he started feeling empty, George would have joined in too. Calling James a wanker and mocking the way he danced, shimmying his hips. Making everyone laugh. But it seems like these days, no one laughs at his jokes anymore. Or, maybe it's just the fact that George stopped joking a long time ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will keeps trying to catch his eye from across the room, but George ignores him and downs his glass instead. He never thought of himself as someone who drank frequently, but lately he's been finding himself falling back on it more than he should. So, he calls for the bartender and orders another drink. He doesn't even care what it is, he just needs that familiar trail of fire to burn down his throat. He needs that rush of the drink, turning his blood into liquid heat. And sometimes he doesn't even know what he's drinking. Cheap vodka or sometimes just wine. It all does the trick in the end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George bites his fingernails sometimes. A bit more than usual lately. His thumb feels raw and he looks down to see a bit of blood lining the scratchy edge of where his fingernail used to be. Alex told him that it's an easy habit to break and that he'll get over it eventually. But that was over two months ago. It isn't a conscious thing. It's not as if George tells himself to chew off his nails. It's just something he does to fill time. To do something. Because when you're feeling broken, everything moves slowly. Everything that happens has an abysmal gap between what has just happened and what happens next. A long, dark hole that fills up everything until something new emerges. But usually, that new thing is just something that fills up the next hole. The next FIFA game. The new Nintendo Switch. It doesn't really help. Just consumes George's time until he can almost forget about being incomplete. Almost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mates are all laughing. James is doubled over as Fraser does a scarily accurate impression of Alex. Lewis is trying to tell them to shut up, but his chest is shaking as well. Alex narrows his eyes and wrinkles his nose, giving them the middle finger. But that just makes them laugh harder. George sighs, remembering when he was the one who made everyone laugh. The one who cheered you up when something went wrong. The one who made witty puns and used finger guns un-ironically. But now, he can't even cheer himself up. So maybe, there's no point in trying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's been quite a while since George has considered himself properly drunk. But as he stumbles off his stool, mind fuzzy and brain altered, maybe he is properly drunk now. He stands next to James who slings a heavy arm over his shoulder and gives him a smile. George almost feels unstoppable. Like he could move a mountain or try to be funny again. So he opens his mouth to drop in a famous George Memeulous Pun, but nothing comes out. It's not like he expected jokes to just stream out from his mouth, but he thought it would all come back to him. And instead, it's like a tap has rusted over in his brain. He keeps twisting and pulling, but it's completely dry. There's nothing left. Not even enough for a smart comment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If anyone notices something going on with him, they don't mention it. Or maybe they do. Alex keeps glancing his way and muttering things to Lewis. James keeps his arm tightly wrapped around his shoulder and Fraser smiles at him. Will is still looking his way while he sits down next to Mia. George ignores him and just mumbles out an excuse to go back to the bar. Alex raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How much have you had, mate? You've been over there all night." Ok so maybe they have noticed. George just shrugs, ducking under James's arm and running a hand through his messy curls. His friends exchange looks and Alex touches a hand to his arm. George pulls away quickly. Too quickly and a flash of <em>hurt </em>crosses Alex's face. "Just- Don't do anything stupid." And then Lewis pulls Alex away, gently placing a hand on his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's around midnight now and the club is closing soon. People have been slowly leaving, so now it's really just them and a few stray groups here and there. The bartender stopped serving George hours ago. But he's still drunk. The alcohol not even close to wearing off. He wants to go home. Fall into his bed and sleep until noon. Or maybe just forever. Sleep forever. That would be nice. Not have to worry about anything. Not have to make sure he doesn't stare after Wi- No. Not that again. That stopped ages ago. He's over it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>YouTube used to be an escape for George. A place where he can just be happy and make other people happy too. But now, it's just a job. There's no motivation behind any of his videos. His brain feels like a machine, spitting out idea after idea. Just mind-numbing work. Film. Edit. Refilm. Post. Repeat. It's not even fun anymore. He wishes he could be like his friends. Just fucking around in their bedrooms, making stupid jokes and not caring. Because George cares. Too much really. He needs to know what people think of him. Because what if they're judging? What if they feel sorry for him and can tell that he's unhappy? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George is horribly unhappy. Nothing sparks interest in him anymore. He's almost numb. He almost can't feel anything anymore. Everything that used to make him happy is just not there anymore. His heart is empty and burning with sadness. But the thing is, he has no idea how to fix himself. He's broken, isn't he? Why can't he be fixed? Or is he just like a porcelain doll. No matter how much you try to glue the pieces together, it always comes out looking worse than it started. </span>
</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sorry about this</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sorry about this. But I was watching some Alex the other day and I realized that I really don't feel comfortable writing about them. It just doesn't feel right. I might rewrite this story to be part of a different fandom, but right now for me, I don't think I really want to write about real people. But I'm proud of the first chapter I got up and the one I started to write. So I think I'm definitely going to rewrite this to fit a different ship. Sorry if anyone was interested in this story. Hopefully I can get it up for a different fandom. Thanks for understanding!</p><p>Peace, </p><p>NutMeg :)</p>
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